The Married Life of Helen and Warren An Alcohol Bath Has a Demoralizing Effect on Helen's Antique Amber. A crudely-lettered sign tacked on the doorway of a dilapidated building. Beads, Imported Noverties Selling Out Below Cost Third Floor, Room 310 Hesitatingly Helen entered the dark musty hall. The third floor! And no . elevator. ,, Yet they might have those tiny opalescent beads which she could not find at any of the shops. The building tenanted by small, v cheap Jobbers, curious signs embel . Ushed the doors along the dirty halls, z. "Goldman Brothers, Fringe and Tassels.” "Shapiro & Koch, Import -ers of Jewelery Novelties.” “Parisian ■ Braid company.” Two more flights of unswept stairs, decorated with cigaret stubs, and she turned down the hall to 310. "Back in a few minutes," read the pencilled card on the door. Helen was ruefully turrtlng away A I) V ERTIS EM ENT. Ford Runs 57 Miles on Gallon of Gasoline A new automatic and self regulat ing device has been invented by John A. 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H. Harrison, 144 Indiana St., Hammond, Ind., wants every auto owner to benefit by his wonderful Invention and makes an unusual offer to anyone who wish es to act as his agent in this terri tory. Write hi mat once. when an old man came shuffling down the hall. "Want something?" gruffly, as he unlocked the door. "Have you any 'beads—as fine as these?" showing him her bag. "I want to mend this—and it needs new fringe." "Got plenty of beads. Don't know if they’re as small as them." The room she entered was long, narrow, lit by a dust grimed window. Box-stacked shelves lined the wall and a glass case held trays of colored beads. “See anything there?" nodding to the display of sample bunches. “No, I'm afraid* they're all too large." "That's all I got,” bluntly, sitting down at a cluttered desk. Indignant at this curt dismissal, Helen turned to the door. "Wanta buy a string of amber?” glowering over his specs. "Cheap.” Real amber! Helen paused. Always she had wanted some real amber beads. Unlocking a drawer under the case, he took out a foreign stamped en velope. "Fifteen dollars,” drawing out a glittering string. "Worth $50.” Eaglerly, Helen examined the large, unevenly cut beads. Instinctively she knew those were real. The very brusequeness of this crabbed old man carried conviction. “That’s dirt,” he grunted, as she scrutinized one of the beads. "Just scrub ’em—soap and water. Know how old those are?” “I don't know much about amber.” holding them so they reflected the light. "Look how they’re cut,” taking a magnifying glass from his pocket. "Those beads are older'n I am. Don't get that color in rosin under 100 years.” "Rosin?” wonderingly. "Don't y'know what amber is? Gum out of a tree—rosin! Needn't take 'em if you don’t want ’em. Buy some of then: glass beads they call 'amber' in the shops—do you just as well.” "Oh, I do appreciate these,” flush ing. "But 1—it s such a short string.” "Well, that’s all there is. Take 'em or leave-’em.” "Very well, I'll take them,” impul sively, opening hei purse. "Show ’em to anj’lwxly that knows amber,” as he thrust his bills in a drawer. "They’ll tell you what a bargain you got.” With thrilled elation Helen wrapped the beads in a bit of crumpled paper that lay on the counter and slipped them into her bag. Hurrying home, she exulted over her find. She had always envied Mrs. Lawler her amber beads from Italy. Even there they had cost $40, besides duty. So these were absurdly cheap. A rumpling search th' ough her em broidery box yielded a skein of heavy old gold floss. Ideal to string the:n on—with lengthening knots between. It was 4:30. Would she have time to restring them before Warren can.e? And first they must be washed. In the bathroom she strubbed them with soap and a stiff nail hrush. Yes, the old man was right. Those dark stains werj only dirt. Somewhere she had lead that real anber should be washed In—what? Something that gave it a luster. Was it vinegar? Darting out to the kitchen, shs half filled a cup with vinegar. “You wanta fix that mayonnaise now, ma’am?" Nora always triad to get out of making the salad dressings. "No, I haven’t time,” recorking the vinegar Jug. "You make it.” Back in the bathroom, she dipped the amber beads into the cup. Blnsed and dried on a soft bath towel, they gleamed and glittered. But there were still a few obdurate specks. "Alco massage,” shouted the label of a tall bottle on top of the medicine chest. Alcohol! That was what had been recommended—not vinegar. This was not pure alcohol—but Just as good for cleaning. The label read, "An alcohol for all external uses." Emptying out the vinegar, Helen filled the cup from the bottle, and again immersed the beads, poking them around with the handle of a tooth brush. Wliert she took them out they seemed curiously dulled. A hasty drying, and she gazed with panicky dismay at the chalky film that cov ered each bead. The lustrous amber was now a dull, ghastly white! Frantically she tried to rub off what seemed only a coating—but It was fixed! That malignant denatured alcohol had ruined them! She was still trying to scrub off the invidious film when the hall door slimmed. Warren’s greeting whistle! But she waa too wretched to run to meet him. His thumping exploration of the library and her room. ‘Hello, what's the trouble now?” he was at the bathroom door. "I've ruined them,” tremulously, j holding up the beads. "And I Just bought them—real amber! I washed them in alcohol—and look what It did." "Alcohol?" Warren glared at the bottle. That's not alcohol! It's that villainous denatured stuff. No more sense than to put 'em in that?” "Why, it says ‘for all external ! uses,' ” she faltered. "Well, we'll not have this dastardly stuff around!" Jerking out the cork, he emptied it down the basin. "A spo< nflit of that'll plant you in Greenwood!" "Dear, what will take It off?" still anguishing over the beads. "Am monia?” "Won't faze it! Why didn’t you try one bead before you flopped 'em all in that devilish alcohol?*' The ammonia bath, as Warren pre dicted, had no effect. But with her usual persistence, Helen tried bicar bonate, washing soda and gasoline. “There must be something that’ll dissolve that chalky film,” as she re luctantly came to the table. "I'm going to keep on trying.” “Better leave ’em alone,” discour aged Warren. “Take ’em to a jeweler. Don’t try any more fool stunts or you won’t have beads left!” But all through dinner she was worriedly abstracted trying to think of some cleansing agency that might restore her antique amber. Nora had Just brought in the prune whip, when Helen started up. " ‘Cleanzit’," eagerly. “That stuff we use for the kitchen sink!" Leaving Warren to finish his des sert alone, she flew out to the pantry. "Try Just one bead,” he called. "See what It does to that.” But recklessly impatient. Helen dropped in the whole string. A moment lateif taking them out she gasped at the magic transforma tion. The white coating gone, each bead shone with a rare pinkish lustre. "They’re different,” darting back to the dining-room. "It’s taken off that coating—and changed the color!" "Mrs. Lawler's at the door,” in terrupted Nora. "She wants Some recipe.” "Oh, come right In, Mrs. Lawler. No, we're Just finishing. That mocha tart? Nota bit of trouble. Nora, it's in my recipe file under desserts.” "Oh, how lovely!” Mrs. Lawler was admiring the beads in Helen's hand. I’ve never seen anything like them! What are they?” "They were amber—real amber. But I washed them in denatured al cohol and almost ruined them. I finally tried 'Cleanzit'—and they came out like that." With Increasing enthusiasm Mrs. Lawler examined them under the hall lamp. "I've that real amber I bought In Italy—but these are much more dis tinctive! They’re Iridescent! Just what did you do?” "Almost everything,” laughed Helen. "I washed them In vinegar, then denatured alcohol, ammonia, bicarbonate, washing soda, gasoline, and Cleanzit’!” "They’re fascinating! I've never seen anything like them. They look priceless!” "But it seems a shame to have done anything to change real amber.” "Anybody that can afford it can have real amber—but these are unique!” Then eagerly, "If you’d rather have the amber—I'll exchange Ulndly!” Helen hesitated, the value of her metamorphosed beads was rising rapidly. "If you won't, I'm going to try Just Wte Sport louring-fltCS “f'o.b. Pontine I iiir.il'-i'i"; l;lilil|ll|l|lllllllllllllini1llll^|l!IHIIIIII!lllllliUll||HililHi|||||!i i! This Year’s Finest Moderately-Priced Sport Cars The first moderately-priced sport cars ever built were Oaklands. So are this year’s finest! The four passenger Sport Touring and the two passenger Sport Roadster are still un matched—at anywhere near their prices—in beauty of line, quality of performance and completeness of equipment. Any of the thousands of owners will wax enthusiastic over their six-cylinder power and smoothness, their speed, their quick pick-up and their wonderful responsiveness. Like all Oak lands—these Sport Cars are sold with a 15,000 mile engine performance guarantee, and their quality is conclusively proved on Oakland’s “Known Mileage” Basis. Inquire about the liberal and convenient terms on which these smart and reliable cars are sold. Roaditcr $ 975 Touring Car . 995 Sport Roaditcr 1145 Sport Touring $110! Coupe for Two llfl! Coupe for Five 144! Sedan . $1545 All Pricrt F. O. B. Pontiac, Michigan Oakland©" A PRODUCT OF GENERAL MOTORS , Oakland Motor Car Co. Oakland Bldg., 20th and Harney Sts. Telephone AT lantic 2929 Wholesale-Retail—Factory Branch Service, which means a permanent interest in every Oakland and its owner. what you did. You'll write it down for me, won't you? I want to get just that effect." Mrs. Lawler finally departing with the mocha tart recipe, Helen re turned to the dining room where Warren still lingered over his after dinner coffee. “Did you hear what she said? She's never seen anything like them!" “Guess not, after the miscellaneous dowsings you gave ’em!” “They’re Iridescent—that’s what's so wonderful!"' rapturously. "The amber showing through that pinkish mauve.” “Let's see ’em again," pushing back his cup. "By George, they arc curious! You hold on to 'em. You stumbled on to some sort of chemical concoction!" “To think they'd come out like that," joyously, trying them on Pussy Purr-Mew for the effect against her gray fur. "And I thought I'd ruined them!” “What'd you soak ’em In last? Stuff you scour the sink with? How the Sam Hill'd you happen to tjilnk of that?" "I was determined to try every thing," gloated Helen, hugging Pussy Purr-Mew, who blinked proudly at her adornment. "I do get things right—if I keep at them. You said not to! Y'ou always discourage me— you never have any faith In my ex periments." “Huh, your experiments usually ball things up. Your bright Ideas are always getting you In Dutch! Just dumb luck you pulled It eft this time. Here, more coffee,” shoving over his cup. “And stop pelting your self with bouquets!" (Copyright, 1K3.) Next Week—Disconcerting Surprise. Retail Credit Men Decide to Hold Picnic in August The Associated Retail Credit men held their regular monthly meeting at the Burgess-Nash tearooms last Tuts day evening and decided to hold their annual picnic during the month of j August. A comedy sketch by ‘'Red" and ] Charlie Dolan and an address by J. 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